Free Dealing With It (Two Short Stories) by Christina Channelle

Chapter
1
    DENIAL
     
    “HE’S GONE.”
    I looked up from my soggy bowl of cereal,
shaking my head fervently. The spoon in my hand clattered against
the bowl as my eyes landed on Ian.
    “No,” I answered in return, uttered lowly
under my breath. I felt my throat tighten against the food stuck in
my throat. I concentrated, forcing myself to swallow the mushy bran
flakes. The feeling was painful.
    Tight.
    Coughing, I spoke louder. “No!” I felt
better saying it with more vigor, hanging onto that single
word.
    Tentatively, Ian walked over toward me. We
must have looked strange to the outside world, Ian and I: me
sitting so motionless at the kitchen table, a spoon hanging from my
fingertips as I looked straight ahead, my head shaking back and
forth repeatedly. Then there was Ian, now standing two feet away
from me as if afraid to come any closer. His blond hair looked
almost comical, standing on end. I would have laughed had it been
any other situation. Jesse would be poking fun at him if he were
here, asking Ian what electrical socket he tried to stick his
finger into this time.
    I did laugh then, scraping the wooden chair
against the floor as I stood, startling Ian. I tilted my head in
his direction, remarking, “You know, Jesse would be rolling on the
floor right now at the way you look.” I walked closer to him,
closing the gap between us and gave his arm a quick squeeze.
    “When’s he coming home, anyway? I don’t want
to miss seeing his expression when he takes a good look at you.
It’ll definitely be priceless.” I moved away from Ian but he
grasped me tightly by the elbow, refusing to let go.
    I looked up at him in confusion, noticed
that his blue eyes were unusually dark. He was frowning, a strange
occurrence for him and it made me frown in return. I placed the tip
of my index finger against his bottom lip, slowly tracing his
unfamiliar expression as I looked up at him, a question in my
eyes.
    “Angie....” His tone was a little off.
Hoarse, as if he hadn’t used his voice in a while.
    Or he’d been crying.
    I knew the next thing out of his mouth would
be something I didn’t want to hear. I wanted to scream at him to
stop before he said anything else but my voice became stuck in my
throat.
    “He’s gone.” Hearing those words again sent
me back into a spiral. I jerked away from him but he wouldn’t
budge. I stared, pointing a finger up at him accusingly; I knew my
eyes must have looked wild to him.
    “Don’t,” I started, my lips trembling. I
shook my head again. “Don’t say that, Ian. It isn’t true. And
that’s a horrible thing for you to say.”
    “You need to wake up, Angela.” I immediately
froze when he said those words. Two things startled me the most
about his statement. First, his tone of voice, which was so unlike
Ian, hard and full of … agony. The second was the fact that he
called me Angela.
    He never called me Angela.
    Only Jesse.
    A tear slowly rolled down my cheek and I
finally broke away from his grip, moving quickly toward the kitchen
sink. I grasped my hands on top of the counter, taking in a shaky
breath. I felt Ian come up behind me and rest his chin against my
shoulder. He took a deep breath as well as I felt the warm air
touch my neck as he exhaled.
    “He’s gone. Jesse is gone, Angela.”
    As the tears continued to roll down both
cheeks now and I felt the wetness of Ian’s own tears start to soak
the back of my shirt, I continued to shake my head back and forth
slowly. Under my breath, I said only one word, over and over
again:
    “No.”

Chapter
2
    ANGER
     
    A PILE OF broken glass was scattered all
around me. Adrenaline pounded through me so hard that I didn’t
notice the pieces of glass embedded into the soles of my bare feet,
blood seeping from the wounds. I breathed heavily, almost panting,
and grabbed another glass from the cupboard, slamming it against
the wall. The satisfaction it gave me as it exploded into bits only
lasted a second before I felt the